Musha no Yomigaeri
by Miyuki Usuki
Summary: Dragonballs aren't the only ones that can ressurrect. At least with the Chikaradzuku, there's a purpose in one's ressurection.
1. Prologue

Musha no Yomigaeri: Prologue

* * *

Enma Daiou glanced from the ten-foot tall cloaked figure to the six-foot tall armored figure, moving only the pupils of his eyes. He didn't appreciate the Chikaradzuku. They didn't help with his job and were actually interrupting it. Literally. They didn't care if he was in the middle of a decision, deciding where the next dead soul was to be headed. When there was something they wanted, they usually demanded it when they wanted it. No sooner, no later.

The Chikaradzuku were dimensional travelers, going from one alternate way of life to the next. They never shared any stories of them, never intended to. But everyone knew that each different place they visited they took a soul that they felt deserved a second chance at life and either convinced or bribed the god or ogre who controlled the divisions of Heaven and Hell to allow this to happen. Even when the "afterlife monitor" --as some called it-- argued, the Chikaradzuku always got their way.

The last time they ever came in through this dimension was nearly two centuries ago. Their stay had been unusually quick, only two days. They had grabbed a warrior who was dishonorable and forced him back to life. One from Hell. Terror struck on Earth but the problem was quickly remedied once a legendary hero from Dimension 54 was summoned. With the Z Senshi around, however, there will be no serious threat this time.

It was no different this visit than all the other ones. A relatively normal duration visit period of two weeks. Again, another soul from Hell. But there was something peculiar about this one that was so much different than the others the Chikaradzuku ordered to be revived. This one looked familiar and hadn't died in the sector Earth was in. Then again, everyone who died in the sector this man had died in all had to transfer to this afterlife, for everything broke down in that sector.

The young man glowered with impatience, anxiety, and hatred. Enma did receive background on him after the transfer, and his name stood out in his mind whenever the name of the race was mentioned. The man was an amazing soldier, always following orders and carrying them out successfully, winning every fight he was challenged to, being fair in his fights, never complained about a situation, and as evil as he was, had some caring for his comrades. These were **not** qualities the Chikaradzuku looked for when they wanted to resurrect a person.

"A second chance, surely," the cloaked figure said, his voice smooth and calm. Enma and the Chikaradzuku, as a regular routine, had discussed the man's entire life story, getting into detail at many parts, but skipping over some parts as a whole. The Chikaradzuku had done most of the talking, most of the reasoning. Enma listened intently, hoping to catch a clue at why he wanted to get this man back to life. Nothing was revealed.

"A second chance at what, exactly?" Enma asked gruffly, getting more and more irritated. He quickly glanced at the man, seeing no changes in his expression ever since he had been here. Maybe a little more impatient. But he had respect, so he did keep quiet, not interrupting.

"A second chance," the Chikaradzuku bowed his head down, "for one of them to create a peace."

"There's more than one?"

"This is the only one. Pay attention to the people on Earth. I want you to notice something that had disappeared. Once the peace is made, I am certain that the element will reappear again."

"Do you think I have time for that?"

"Fine, then. Talk to one of the Kaious. Or maybe the Kami of Earth, if you don't have the time. This element is important to all dimensions that share the same location Earth is in. I won't bore you with the details. The quicker done, the better chance for survival of billions." The hood turned to face the man. "Are you prepared for the resurrection process? It will be different than all the rest."

"What do you have planned, Chikaradzuku?" Enma demanded. He didn't like the sound of 'It will be different than all the rest' despite the tranquility that had carried the words.

The hooded figure had decided to ignore Enma Daiou, and walked to the man who was two heads shorter than he. Of course he wanted to watch; information was desired and needed and the dimensional resurrector was never going to tell him. If one were to walk in at the moment he or she would think that Enma was apathetic about the situation happening off to the side. He was in his normal position; elbow on the desk and cheek resting in the palm of his hand. But the onlookers did know he was interested and was watching more carefully than anyone else.

The Chikaradzuku grabbed a lock of the man's hair, his palm roughly resting on top of his head. The man narrowed his left eye in irritation and growled softly. But that was all he did. White wisps of smoke started to ascend towards him, turning into a light shade of blue as it started to surround his body.

The bony fingers resting atop of his head started to come together as if to ball into a fist. A tremble came. Enma thought it to be normal. Everything so far was happening like it had those many times before. The onlookers were not used to this as this is the first time they had experienced a resurrection process handled by a Chikaradzuku.

Finally, the cloaked figure lifted his hand off of the man's head, but only so it hovered low to the top of his skull. A crimson disk glowed from beneath his palm, over the man's head. The fingers outstretched tightly, making the light engulf the man's body. Enma watched, his heart full of shock, as the man screamed in pain before nothing was left there but smoke. Even the Chikaradzuku had vanished also.

"Next," he called, getting the line of dead people moving again.

He acted as if nothing happened. The other ogres tried to do the same, but the elder ones knew as well as Enma Daiou that the red beam was not supposed to have occurred. It was only one of the many abnormal things the Chikaradzuku performed the entire time he had been in the dimension of this Earth.

The element that needed to appear in order to prevent the annihilation of billions...

What was it, anyway?

* * *


	2. Chapter One

Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter Two

* * *

"Those final exams were just total bull, you know?"

"Thank Kami they are over. By the way, did you hear that the honors students won't go on any field trips next year while the rest of the grade levels do?"

"I **would** say I feel sorry for them, but I don't! They deserve it, those nerds."

All of the boys laughed loudly, Trunks joining along with them. No matter what, ever since the announcement of the new placements for next year came out, every single conversation he and the guys always had a tease about the honors students. These were the students that were going to go to special classes because of their good grades and conduct over the course of the year. Already they knew that all of the kids who wore glasses were going to get in. Well, they thought all of those kids would. Trunks wasn't a stereotype; he knew that more than half of those kids weren't going to get in.

How did he know? Just last week he got a notice in the mail saying he was heading into honors. And with it was a list of other kids who made it into grade level 7 ½, as some other kids in the school called it. Of course he never told his friends he was going to go into the "nerd classes". Why should he? They didn't need to know. And it was best for all of them to never know.

Besides, if they did find out, he would always have Goten as a friend. Thank Kami he was coming to Serenity next year. Then the year after that, Marron, if Kulilin and Juuhachigou was willing to make a round trip across the ocean to get her to school and home five days a week for ten months.

Oh yes, and he'd still have Russ as a friend, too. Russ's name was on the honors list, right under Trunks's. They were good friends, but not as close as he had it with Ekas and Trunks with Goten. They were just at the halfway point. If they had been closer, then they would've discussed the honors situation with each other, and neither would have to worry about how the others would react the next semester. And that was the one thing Trunks was uncomfortable about.

Luckily, these honors conversations only lasted for two to five sentences, the subject changing to something either more to their interest or something that they really wanted to complain about.

"Speaking of which, whose house are we going to next to work on that History project?" Ekas asked. He glanced to each person. Everyone's house has been visited at least twice, Trunks's about five times. Except for Russ, whom Ekas turned to. "Hey, dude, we've never been to your house before. Why don't we go to your place for once?"

Russ shook his head. "Sorry. Mom has been busy lately, and she'll kill me if I brought any friends over."

"Still busy?" Confirmation nod. "Fine, then. Trunks?"

"Haven't we been to my house enough already? Why not yours?"

"I don't know." Pause. "Fine. My house then. Sheesh. How about right after school?"

"Fine," was the unanimous response from the four boys. It wasn't enthusiastic at all; none of them wanted to work on this History project which was worth about a quarter of their grade.

But the funny thing that occurred to Trunks was why wasn't Russ ever allowed to bring anyone to his house? There was no good reason that he could think of. But that, like many other topics, vanished quickly as the conversation went on during the lunch period.

* * *

"SON GOHAN!"

_Perfectly good excuse, perfectly good excuse,_ the young hybrid thought as he raced into the main room to meet his mother. He knew he should've cleaned up the trail of blood and mud right after he got the patient settled in, he meant to, but that reminder he had to himself just disappeared in a blink of an eye once he started to clean up the man.

"Yes, Mother?" Gohan asked meekly, yet still pretending that he didn't know what he was in trouble for. The more innocent one was, the less hassle he would have to go through.

A scolding glare was what he met from Chichi. "What is the meaning of this?" She asked in a low, menacing voice, pointing to the ground. Gokuh was behind her, just trying to calm her down somewhat by saying not to put too much pressure on Gohan, but that only made things worse. "I think I know how to handle our son!" She snapped loudly, causing the warrior to cower. She turned back to Gohan, speaking in a quiet voice again. "I thought I raised you better than this."

Gohan glanced down to the floor, where blood mixed with mud was sprinkled. _Perfectly good excuse,_ he reminded himself. "Sorry, Mother, I was going to clean it up but..."

"But **what**?! There's also a plate in the kitchen on the counter, dirty utensils in the sink. And look at **you**! I thought you were supposed to be studying. NOT FIGHTING!"

"Chichi," Gokuh tried again, just as meek as Gohan was, "let him talk. I'm sure he has a good excu-"

"You keep out of it!" She yelled at him. "It's all **your** fault anyway! If you hadn't dragged him to all those battles he would have never have the urge to fight. EVER!"

"But..."

"Mother, Father," Gohan cut in quickly, not wanting to deal with this right now, "there's a man in my room. He's hurt pretty badly. I found him just outside and..."

"You brought a **stranger** inside this house?!"

"But he's hurt, Mother!" Gohan protested innocently, once again stopping a yelling spree from her. "I couldn't have just left him there to die! Besides, he looks too much like Father and, well, come and see for yourself!"

Before Gohan even finished the last sentence, Gokuh was already walking towards his eldest son's room. Gohan figured that by the mention of someone looking like him was enough to get him interested in who this person was. He probably thought it was Turles. Chichi, on the other hand, suspiciously stormed towards his room, her lips pursed tightly. She wasn't in a good mood today, obviously.

When Gohan entered back into his room, he could feel his mother's shock as she stood in the middle of the room, glancing at the man. Gokuh had taken steps further, just so he can be leaning over the bed. Gohan came beside him, and managed to get a glimpse of his father's face. It was confused, of course, and almost surprised. But neither of them said a word.

Chichi came closer, only to be behind and in between her son and husband. She, too, peered down at the man, who was sleeping peacefully. Or at least appeared to be sleeping peacefully. "A Saiya-jin?" She questioned in a small whisper.

Gohan nodded. "I saw his tail. He's either another clone or another brother of Father's. What do you think?" He asked as he glanced at both of them. Gokuh still didn't say anything, and Chichi only shook her head.

"I don't know," she admitted, turning her head towards the conscious purebred Saiya-jin. "Gokuh?"

For about three seconds he said nothing, just kept silent. Then, "He's not a zoo exhibit," he said as he turned away from the man and walked out of the room seriously. A little **too** seriously. "Let him get some rest. We'll find out his identity when he wakes up."

* * *

After pouring herself another nice and hot cup of tea, Siarus leaned in her chair, enjoying the stormy sky. It was about time they had one of these. The last time a thunderstorm came up was almost a year ago, back in the summer. It was enjoyable, but it was too normal to her liking. This one caught her attention once strange things started occurring.

For instance, this thunderstorm had two different colors of lightning: the run-of-the-mill yellowish white and one that had a reddish tint to it. Thunder would rumble every five minutes, immediately after a flash of lightning was seen. And where there were two different colors of lightning, there were two different sounds of thunder. One was a normal one, the other sounded more like a bomb going off in the middle of nowhere.

But in her heart, she was saddened at the weird storm that was taking place. It indicated that the dimensions were coming apart. If she hadn't failed those many years back, if she could've found another way to prevent this from occurring now, then she wouldn't have to worry.

Or maybe if she hadn't made the deal with the gods, this wouldn't be happening. Of course it wouldn't! She had agreed to relieve them of their stress and handle the security of the dimensions if they wouldn't punish her severely. There was a catch: she had to be immortal, but it was no big deal for her. After all, around the time she was only twenty years old, and it made no big deal to her that she was to stay twenty forever.

A knock came, disturbing the peacefulness Siarus had started to enjoy. Her son would be home in another hour, so whoever this visitor was had better make it quick. She waltzed to the door, leaving her green tea on the patio.

"Yes?" She asked once she opened the door. After surveying her visitor, she became bewildered. "You... what are **you** doing here?"

"Is that a polite way to welcome your guests?" A gruff voice came, but didn't make a move to come inside. "I've come with some bad news. Or good. Whatever you want to call it."

"What is it?"

"Do you want it straightforward or do you want it so you can figure it out for yourself?"

"Straightforward."

"Very well then," he took a momentarily pause, as if to make her tension go up. It didn't work. She was a patient woman to some point. "Acirema has returned."

"Acirema?" She repeated, trying to hide her delight. This was **good** news! "I thought Emor sent him away from this dimension. To Dertah, I think."

"Well, he's back. And he doesn't come peacefully either."

"Since when did he ever?" Siarus questioned. Now unable to hide her happiness, she cracked a smile. "Well, now we can get the Tenrag back. Maybe things aren't as hopeless as we thought them to be all those many years back."

"Are you going to fight him again? You know what happened the last two times. The Tenrag never returned," he pointed out solemnly. "What makes you think this time will be no different? They're just going to send Emor back. Either that or Son Gokuh will interfere."

"Well," she stated, straightening her back. "Let's just hope none of those things happen."

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter One

* * *

Bulma would've figured that Trunks would've been happy that the second semester was ending. This had been his first year in middle school and it had been a little rough for him since, unlike most preteens and teens at the school, he had no friends to start the very first minute with. Goten was a year too young to go to Serenity Middle School and all of Trunks' other friends were going to Satan City Middle School.

With summer coming up, she was surprised to see that Trunks seemed rather glum. Of course, she was worried like any good mother should be. Most, if not then **all**, kids were overly ecstatic over the last days of school. And Trunks had the better reason to be happy. After all, Chichi was allowing Goten to go to Serenity, and both of the boys knew.

She glanced at her twelve-year old son. He was taking his time with his breakfast, toying with the egg benedict. The pounding rain and the steady tempo of the clock were all that could be heard in the room. The uncomfortable silence was too much for Bulma, and she wanted answers from her son now. Luckily she agreed to give him a ride to school so the conversation could last as long as it wanted to.

"Something bothering you, Trunks?" She asked, setting down her fork on her empty plate. "You've been awfully quiet the past few days, especially for a kid who's getting out of school soon. Have you been lying when you said you've made a lot of new friends at Serenity?"

He quickly glanced up at her before gluing his eyes back on his plate again. "Nothing's bothering me, Mom. I was just... thinking."

"Well, you've been in deep thought for a long time now," Bulma pointed out, a sly smile approaching her face. "And it could only be a girl you're thinking about."

"What?!" That caught his attention as he shot his head back up, staring at her wide-eyed in shock. "No! Of course not! What are you thinking?!"

She laughed quietly, remembering the first time she assumed that. Best to recreate that conversation to get what she wanted. "Don't worry about it! You have good looks. I'm sure if you ask her out she'll automatically say 'Yes'. Whoever says you're not handsome has something wrong with them. Because remember who you got your looks from?" She beamed with pride.

He smiled weakly at this, then continued to make designs on his plate with his fork. He sighed and the smile vanished as he continued to stare down. "It's not a girl, Mom. It's not the guys either," he said quietly, his voice just as serious as his father's usually is. She knew then that he wasn't kidding. "Don't worry so much about it though. I can handle the situation by myself."

She shrugged slightly, standing up, knowing the conversation was coming to a close. "I'll have to take your word for it," she sighed, bringing her plate to the sink. "Hurry up and put your dish up on the counter. We have to leave now or else you'll be late."

He stood up reluctantly, carrying his plate and placed it right next to the sink. He trotted out of the kitchen to get his things together for school, double-checking to make sure he has everything. Bulma looked at the plate and saw that he ate absolutely nothing. Her concern increased greatly as she stared out the way he left. This was not like him at all.

* * *

A little rain never hurt anyone. In fact, it could be quite refreshing. Especially with the long, heated summer approaching. It would be nice to have a little spar with this weather, but Piccolo was no in the mood right now to deal with those Humans or Saiya-jins. Besides, with the exception of Vegeta and maybe Gokuh, they may not want to get soaked. Weak. But he had a second option: meditating. Nothing wrong with that.

The thunderstorms helped rather than intervene. The booming background echoed in his ears loudly yet distantly. All part of nature, and it was good to calm him.

But the serenity of it all didn't last very long. Two sounds of thunder came, but one was not normal. Since they were both side to side it was quite obvious. The first one just sounded like any other thunder strike. But the second sounded more of a mix between a regular thunder and the sound of a Ki blast exploding against a target.

The Nameksei-jin cracked one eye open suspiciously, his grim features never wavering.

What the hell was that?

* * *

Finally, freedom away from his minions. He usually failed at his goals to destroy so-and-so because of them. This time, he will do this without them. He _will_. No one around to mess him up, no one around to anger him. This mission will be overly successful. And the revenge he was dying for nearly two hundred years would finally come.

He knew the troubles he was going to cause for returning to this planet in this dimension. Same thing that happened last time. Except the _sekai tabibito_ came and banished him to the world of hatred. It was not Hell, but something worse. Luckily, he quickly learned how to teleport through different dimensions and worlds himself, becoming a _gorotsuki tabibitoi_. Meaning that he isn't an official dimensional traveler, he isn't trained well enough to know the consequences, and that if anyone catches him he was to be punished the worst way possible.

What worst way possible? He's been through Hell, responsible for many deaths in the past, sent to Dertah, and had an excessive amount of failure hanging over his shoulder. Whatever the high gods had in store for him, he was prepared for it and wasn't worried about the suffering.

If he hadn't been so foolish all those years back, he knew he wouldn't be in this situation. The curse would never be with him, he would be living happily in the afterlife, and the witch would have never been a part of his life. His family would still be alive. Including his descendants. Which, after the last battle he had on this planet, were no more. No one to carry out his name, no one to carry out the skills that he and his brothers had shared during their lifetime nearly three hundred years ago.

He sighed and floated up in the air, high enough so he can view the entire landscape. He hoped that, after two hundred years, Siarus was still around. After all, that witch was supposed to be immortal. But there were high consequences for immortality that he vowed to charge against her, making her wish that she were mortal. If the dragonballs were still around, then she will be forced to wish for mortality again, and then...

He chuckled to himself, satisfied with his plan. Revenge was sweet, even if it was only at stage two.

* * *

Son Gohan was, by his mother command, studying very hard. Nothing new. Of course, this was the finals he was studying for, and he wanted to pass. College life was not the best, but he had to go through it in order to be a scholar. It was what his mother wanted, and it was the least he could do after all those years.

He leaned back in his chair, reflecting back on all the battles he had gone through. The first time he had been introduced to fighting at all was back when he first met his uncle. Soon with many others, some from the horrid Planet Trade that his father had been born into, but certainly not grew up with, thank Kami. Some from the creations of Dr. Gero, where he had a victory. Somewhat. Although Gokuh was alive again, he still felt guilty for his death. Then there was Buu, and all had turned out well. But that was merely three years ago. Everything was still fresh in his mind.

"Time for a little break," he said to himself, walking out of his room towards the kitchen. No one was in the house; Goten was at school and his mother and father went out shopping (Amazingly or not so amazingly, Chichi managed to get Gokuh out of the house and not do any sparring this day. It still amused and bemused Gohan at the same time every time he reviewed the "conversation".). So every step Gohan took came a light tapping noise, and nothing else responded to the sounds he made.

While he fixed himself lunch, he hummed to himself a little tune he heard on the radio the other day. All of his bad memories were pushed to the back of his mind, so he wasn't thinking of anything at all. Absolutely nothing and it felt good to do so. In fact, he almost missed something peculiar when he passed by the window, while putting some kitchen utensils in the sink because of this. But luckily he did catch something from the corner of his eye that made him look twice.

Setting his plateful of food on the counter, he leaned over the sink and closer to the window to glance more carefully at the figure he saw. He snatched off his glasses and squinted, hoping that he wasn't seeing things. He nearly dropped his glasses into the wet sink after realizing he wasn't.

There was a man holding himself up with the aide of a tree. He was severely injured, blood trailing out at least in two spots on each limb. But that wasn't the major thing that caught Gohan's eye. It was something else.

This man looked too much like his father. Way too much.

_Father?!_ Gohan thought frantically. Then he shook his head firmly with a frown. _No. That's not his Ki. Besides, he's supposed to be out shopping with Mother._ He couldn't quite remember what that Ki felt like though, but it seemed all too familiar. _**Turles**?! He's back?! It can't be!_

Nonetheless, this man was weak and needed help. It didn't matter if it was his old enemy or not, Gohan knew he couldn't just leave him to die. Besides, Saiya-jin or not 'Turles' might catch a cold with all the rain that was falling from the sky. He could doctor him back to health, and if he tried to destroy Earth one way or another again, it shouldn't be too hard for the warriors to defeat him. After all, he couldn't be a Super Saiya-jin like the others were, and Gohan doubted that he knew about the dragonballs.

He ran outside, water splattering onto his pants as he proceeded. His mother would kill him later, but no matter. He had a perfectly good excuse... if he could manage to get it out before or during the yelling spree. It would be meek, of course.

The look alike of Son Gokuh had collapsed to his knees by the time Gohan reached him. His entire body heaved up and down with exhaustion, and he didn't notice the near-adult hybrid approach him. Gohan took the risk to rest one hand on his shoulder and ask, "Are you alright, sir?"

"I'm **fine**," the man snapped. Maybe this wasn't Turles after all! It sure didn't sound like him. It sounded almost like Gokuh's. Too much like him, just like his appearances. _Another clone? Or is he another brother of Father's?_ "Now leave me alone. I can take care of myself."

To show it, he stood wearily, only to fall again. Gohan did manage to get a good glimpse at his attire, which made his theory officially untrue. Turles had shoulder guards on his armor, this man didn't. Although it was ripped, this man wore black pants with dark red cloths adorning his ankles. And Turles didn't. Who was he?

When the man didn't attempt to get up again, and once he had fallen to lie on his stomach, Gohan checked to make sure he was conscious still. He wasn't. _Well, at least I'll be able to get him inside the house without any struggling,_ he thought bitterly as he hauled the man onto his back.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter Three

* * *

There was a fishlike creature taunting him while he lied helpless on his back. It looked the same the last time he has ever saw it, the first moment everything turned upside-down for him. It had a menacing smirk, every once in a while letting out a chuckle of satisfaction. The blue aura helped to show its triumph from long ago, although it had been its last moments in the living world.

"What did I tell you?" Chuckle. "Found out I was telling the truth a little too late, eh?" Chuckle. "Because of your ignorance, your people are near extinct! Fool. What a pitiful fool you are..."

It was too much for the warrior to handle now. He was strong physically and mentally, but he had been dealing with this for four hours straight. He'd go insane if it didn't stop soon and he knew it. So he struggled for a way to escape the voice, to escape the reminder of his failure of long ago. He was sick and tired of being reminded of it!

His hand gripped tightly onto something, but he didn't care what. This was the key to snap out of it. This was the key to keep him sane. This was...

A bed sheet?

Startled and bemused, he opened one eye to look at what his fist had captured. Sure enough, it was the inside of a white blanket. He closed that eye again and let out a breath of relief.

"A dream," he murmured. "A dream. That's all." Then he slapped his forehead, purposely quickening his breathing pattern. "Damn it."

Before he could scold himself further, he rubbed his forehead, realizing something was missing. A piece of his attire. Not that he really cared about his clothing, but this was something he treasured, yet never admit it. Hey, he was Saiya-jin after all. But even Saiya-jins got materialistic and loved something more then power and success. Then again, he has always cherished certain people, including his mate, more than mere items.

But this was too important to lose!

He sat up, throwing the blanket off of him. That's when he noticed that he had been cleaned up and draped in bandages. It only took him a second to realize who had done it. That annoying, sentimental kid. He growled, blaming himself for being weak and collapsing right before that child's eyes. Well, now his ego dropped a few notches.

He glanced around the room he was being held in. It wasn't much; it only contained the bed he was sitting on and a desk. There was a closet on the other side of the room, but it didn't count as furniture. The desk was really close to the bed, and the warrior found what he was looking for hanging on the edge of it.

"Well, maybe the kid isn't as all stupid as I thought him to be," he muttered as he swung his legs so his feet met the floor. Suddenly, a rush of blood ran up to his brain. He brought up his hand to his face, shaking his head to get rid of the feeling. "Damn headaches."

"You're awake," a familiar voice called. Without having to look up, he knew it was that kid who had took him out of the rain. "That's good. At least I know you'll survive."

The warrior shook his head violently and glared up at the kid. "Why does it matter to you?" He snapped. "I was doing **fine** until you showed up. Thanks," he spat, total sarcasm in his voice. Especially the last word.

The kid just sighed and jet one hand out towards him. "My name is Son Gohan," he announced, obviously hoping to get to a good start. The warrior just scowled dangerously, and settled himself harder on the bed, as if the young man was some sort of disease. No chance in Hell (despite the fact he's already been there) would he touch this boy.

"And you expect me to tell you **my** name?" He growled. Gohan sighed and let his hand drop, looking exasperated, but he also wore a look signaling that he was used to this kind of resistance. Or had been expecting it.

"I'd figured it'd be easier for all of us," he pointed out solemnly.

"'All of us'?" He questioned suspiciously, yet smugly. He assumed this was a flaw in his choice of words, and he loved putting that mistake against people. "Who's 'all of us'?"

Gohan hesitated for a couple seconds, then he smiled a confident grin. "My family and my friends," he answered. Ah, well, not everyone can get lucky. "There are a lot of them. That's why if we knew your name, it'd be easier. I'd rather not call you 'a man I found outside of our house'. That'd be rude. So, what's your name?"

The warrior thought about that, and he thought hard. Mainly the consequences, and the different names he could pick. Lie, even. The kid would never know. He'd just have to get used to being called by that name. However, he didn't want to lie. He wanted to tell the truth. Somehow his conscience was telling him to say his real name. But he didn't want to give in to it. Surrendering is the last thing he wanted to do. Should he lie? Or should he tell the truth?

"Very well then," he said finally, angry at his verbal defeat. "My name is Kakarotto."

* * *

He knew he'd have to wait to start his search. This thunderstorm was too overwhelming and dangerous to start any kind of airborne journey in. And the land search would take too long. He figured it wouldn't be much of a big deal for him. After all, two hundred years of waiting wasn't too bad for him, what's another day?

The cave he was planning to spend the night in was small, but comforting. There were no twists and curves leading to other parts of the cave for him to stay far off from the rain. It was still satisfactory, though. Good enough to build a fire and haul in some food that he had to hunt for, and finally a resting-place. But he didn't build any beds. He could settle himself on the hardest floor and still sleep like a bear hibernating.

But he didn't care about the little abode he provided himself with. He's only going to stay in it for one night, or at least until the storm went away. He hoped it would be soon; patience can only last so long. He was more concerned of others following him. He wasn't careless to leave a portal open, but when it came to dimensional traveling, the possibilities were high.

Would Emor come back if he found out? Maybe he was already dead. If that were the case, then another _sekai tabibito_ would still come and stop him. Send him back to Dertah perhaps. Or he could end up in Hell again. Whichever they'd prefer. He couldn't think up of any worse penalties for this illegal journey. The worst was Hell without a body. But he still found nothing wrong with that. He'd be isolated from others. Good. That would be something he needed.

_No one had better come,_ the words rang through his head, _until Siarus is done away with._

It was her fault, her fault, her fault! He knew it was! She was responsible for the curse he carried with him. She was responsible for the extinction of his family. She was responsible for his first death. She, not Emor, not the high gods of Dimension 54, but **she** was responsible for his banishment to Dertah! Maybe none of them directly, but she was responsible. She was the source to all his problems. Why he was dubbed, "dishonorable" and "mentally weak" was because of the actions he blew on her.

"Immortality is going to turn on you, Siarus," he warned under his breath, a smirk approaching his face. "Because I know something about you that would surprise you when you learn that I know."

* * *

"HOME!"

_About time!_ Chichi thought angrily. She turned away from her cooking, glowering at her youngest son. "And where have you been, young man? You were supposed to have been home an hour ago, were you not? Have you not been home at three-thirty sharp ever since I allowed you to go to a public school?"

"Aw, Mom," Goten whined, getting himself into his explanation mode, "I had to stay after school to do some, um, extra studying!"

"'Extra studying'?" Chichi repeated skeptically. "Since when did your school have a study hall?"

"It wasn't detention!" Goten protested quickly, knowing what she was thinking. And what he thought Chichi was thinking, at least what Chichi thought what he was thinking she thought, was absolutely correct. Although it never happened before, it was still a possibility. "It was an after school study period! Serious! You can even call up my teacher and ask her!"

Chichi folded her arms across her chest still looking angry, but in her mind smiling with pride widely. Here's another son that will take out some free time for studying! But she had a duty as a mother to keep putting some pressure on her child. "Well, you should've at least called or told me this morning you were going to stay after school. I was worried sick!"

"Sorry Mom," Goten apologized. Then he switched gears, obviously eager to have some sort of fun. Icky weather outside and Chichi was glad partially because Goten wouldn't want to spar in the rain. Hopefully. "Where's Gohan? He probably has some idea of what to do. I'm bored."

Chichi sighed, knowing that this would come up sooner or later. But it was sooner, not later. And she would've preferred it to be later. She felt uncomfortable telling about that mysterious man who Gohan found. She was even less comfortable telling anyone how she felt about the way Gokuh was acting now that this man turned up. But she had an idea to make sure that she'd have to tell Goten later about the man rather than now.

"Why don't you go study some more?" She suggested. "A little extra studying time never hurt anyone. I assumed you finished your homework at the study period?"

"Yeah, but I don't wanna study anymore!" He whined. "My head hurts!"

"Then go take a nap," Chichi told him, turning back around to the stew to make sure the eggrolls weren't getting burnt. "Dinner won't be served for another hour or so."

"Where's Dad?" Goten asked. He just wasn't going to give up, was he? "I know he's home and inside the house, but he's not in here like he usually is."

"He's resting," she explained simply. That was true; he was taking a nap. Ever since he left the man who looked a whole like him, he retreated into their bedroom and stayed in there. Last time she checked on him was a couple hours ago, and he was sleeping. Did he know that man from somewhere?

"Oh, man," Goten complained, "I guess I'll find something to do in my room."

Chichi heard him slump down the hall to his room and couldn't help but smile. They both knew why neither of them suggested contacting the Briefs. Trunks was too busy lately with the sixth grade, and every time Goten called him up he was either not home, at a group member's house working on a project, or too busy with his homework. "Middle school isn't all it was cracked up to be," were his exact words. But it should be a good experience for Goten next semester.

In the middle of her thoughts, some rough footsteps were heard. She glanced over her shoulder and was instantly relieved that her husband was finally awake. "Had a good sleep?" She called cheerfully, pushing away the reminder of his awkward behavior and made sure her voice showed it.

"The best ever," a sarcastic voice returned. This time she spun all the way around, recognizing something strange of the voice. It was related to Gokuh's... but it wasn't Gokuh's.

Lo and behold, it was the mysterious man's.

"Mother," Gohan's voice came from the hallway. He stopped talking until everyone was in view of one another. He looked surprised and confused, but his voice kept steady. "You won't believe this."

* * *

[ [Chapter Four][1] ] [ [Introduction][2] ]

   [1]: musha04.htm
   [2]: musha.htm



	5. Chapter Four

Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter Four

* * *

It almost surprised Trunks that it wasn't flooding as if a typhoon came by. Oh, there were puddles forming here and there, but with the rain pouring down this hard all day long, perhaps all night last night too, it should be flooding. Well, thank Kami his house is only three blocks away from Ekas's.

But Russ's house was farther. Trunks wasn't sure how far; Russ never told them and no one has ever been to his house **ever**. But it did seem like a long way off. Despite this, Russ still walked home alongside Trunks. He didn't even have an umbrella, so he had to share with him. Oh well, Russ could be just one who loves to walk no matter what the condition of the weather was.

Well, at least Trunks knew he'd be able to talk about the incident with the honors program with Russ without anyone interrupting. This was a very rare time that they were alone together accidentally. They never were alone together purposely. Never met at each other's house unless it was for a school project (like last week), hardly even spoke to each other unless they were speaking to the entire group. So now was the time, and the only time, that they could talk with one another.

"So, Russ," Trunks started, then paused. _Oh dear Kami, I feel like as if I'm about to ask the guy out!_ He thought in horror. Suddenly he knew how to start the conversation off to lead towards the honors classes topic. "Looking forward to next year?"

"Eh," he shrugged as if he didn't care. His eyes were still glued to the ground, but Trunks noticed that he wore a disgusted look in them. But he said nothing more, much to Trunks disappointment. Now how was he supposed to continue the discussion without being obvious he wanted to talk about the honors program.

"'Eh?' That really tells me much," Trunks said sarcastically, a smug smile being worn on his face. They reached a crosswalk and stopped their walking momentarily. After seeing no cars go by, they resumed their pace. During this time no conversation went on until they reached the other side of the street.

"'Eh' meaning that I don't know how to feel," Russ stated. And the journey went on. "You know how it's going to be next year for both of us. Maybe. If Ekas and the others find out about..." He trailed off, but of course Trunks knew what he was talking about.

"I'm sure it'd be no problem," Trunks said, relieved that Russ actually mentioned it. Well, he didn't mention it literally, but he implied it. Oh, he didn't care! "We just don't have to tell them."

"They're going to find out sooner or later anyway," he pointed out. "We could just get it over with. But then again we, or I, would have done it long ago. How would Ekas act anyway?"

Trunks shrugged as they reached another street and stopped. Many cars roared by fast as the red-light for those walking on the boys' side shone. The purple-haired kid glanced at the brown-haired one with a tiny smirk. "You tell me. You know him better."

"Something like this has never happened before. Nothing has even come close to being as serious as this," Russ pointed out solemnly. "I've known him ever since the second grade. We've always been in the same class. Now..."

Again, he trailed off. The light turned green and the two sixth graders hurried across the street. These stoplights in the city always seemed to go by too fast. The 'Walk' sign would turn on, three seconds later blink like crazy for ten seconds, then the 'Stop' sign would show. How annoying that can be after a long while!

"Still, I'm sure he'd still be your friend," Trunks shrugged once the curb was three steps behind them. "I know I would."

"You're going to be in the same class as me, what are you talking about?" Russ joked, rolling his eyes.

"All the better!" Trunks exclaimed, laughing. They reached the outer walls of Capsule Corporation, signaling that the conversation had ended. Trunks handed the umbrella towards Russ. "Take it, dude. You still have a while to go. Just give it back to me tomorrow."

"Thanks, man," Russ said, gripping the handle. "I'll see you tomorrow. Continue this discussion whenever?"

"Whenever. See ya!" Trunks exclaimed as he jogged to the front door of his house, waving as he went. _Well, that's off my shoulders. I can't believe I waited to talk about that. Could've taken care of it last Wednesday._

* * *

The delicious aroma snaking through the halls managed to intrude into the room. It filled it up instantly, making his stomach go berserk. But for some odd reason he didn't fly into the kitchen, asking when dinner was going to be served, how much longer until dinner was ready. It was the sight of **him** that made Gokuh quite uneasy and plain not hungry. That man just looked too familiar for his tastes.

Pun alert. If Kaiosama knew exactly what was on Gokuh's mind he would crack up and say that he came up with an extremely good joke.

Gokuh couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. Thinking of Kaiosama, Bubbles, and Gregory and the time he spent with them before the arrival of Vegeta and Nappa and during the seven year period after the Cell Games were quite amusing, and always relieved him of his tension. He needed to be relieved. There was nothing worse than coming across a look alike of yours who happened to be...

"Gokuh."

He sat up, startled from hearing his name. The voice called again, this time apparent it was coming from outside the house. Gokuh hopped off the bed and looked towards the window eagerly. Sure enough, there was the source of the voice standing right there in the rain. He pushed open the window, wondering what was so important. Hey, maybe he'd get to spar today!

"Piccolo! What are you doing here?" He exclaimed with a bright smile. "Why didn't you go to the front door?"

"Didn't feel like dealing with that wife of yours," the Nameksei-jin replied coldly. He continued on, giving no chance for the Saiya-jin to speak. "Gokuh, we need to talk about some important matters."

'Important matters'. The way he said it told Gokuh to be serious. This was not something to joke around with. It was something that he needed to take heart into. So he automatically did. The transfer was swift yet almost unnoticeable. It had always been an advantage in the past. "What is it?"

"Don't you think you should let us in first?" A different voice called from the side. A woman's voice. Gokuh leaned forward out the window to see a very young person with golden brown cascading hair. Yet she seemed quite old. Her skin was pale and her black sweater and jeans helped to stand it out. Unlike Piccolo, she was under a black umbrella, so she as dry as one could get with one. "It's only the polite thing to do."

Gokuh noticed something different about her Ki signature. It wasn't like most beings. Most beings Ki were felt the strongest when they are the most powerful, the weakest when they are dying or have no strength at all. One could tell if they had potential power and strength or not. But this woman. Her Ki was strong and weak. It was nowhere in the middle either. Gokuh couldn't explain it, but along with feeling how much strength she had he felt how much willpower she had. That was quite unusual.

"This is Siarus," Piccolo announced. "An immortal. She's been around for more than five hundred years."

"I don't think that information is necessary," Siarus shook her head. "Let's just tell him about Acirema. I have to get back home soon."

"What's an Acirema?"

"It's not a 'what', it's a 'who'," the immortal explained, waving a hand towards him. "Is it a problem if we go inside? It's kind of hard to tell a story of the past in pouring weather."

"Ah, sorry," Gokuh said quickly, moving aside. Siarus easily climbed through without bringing a drop of water with her. Her umbrella fell into a puddle once she was inside. Gokuh pondered if he should let Piccolo come in. He was wet, so Chichi would get angry if she saw the mud and water inside. Then again, if she caught Piccolo inside the house she would get angry. "Um, Piccolo..."

"No need," he refused, knowing what Gokuh was going to either say or ask. "Like I said, I don't want to deal with that wife of yours. Siarus, go ahead and explain to him about the Tenrag and Acirema."

She nodded and turned to the Saiya-jin. "The Tenrag is a combination of earth, air, water, and fire. It has to be held by a solid form to keep it in perfect condition. I put it in a small, brown marble and left it in the middle of the wilderness. It cannot be taken inside a compound. But when one touches the marble, the Tenrag will be absorbed by that person who touched it. Someone did touch and absorb it a long time ago."

"The Tenrag sounds important," Gokuh pointed out. "What does it do?"

"Holds dimensions together," she said. "With it gone everything falls apart. Gradually at first, but it speeds up as time goes by. The major destruction doesn't happen until three hundred years after it disappears. That's next year."

"So, why not use the dragonballs?"

Piccolo spoke up. "This is one of the few things that is out of Shenlong's power. There is only one way to get the Tenrag back. And that's by killing the person who has it."

"I see."

"Acirema is the person who absorbed the Tenrag," Siarus continued. "He's still alive. I killed him once, but the Tenrag never returned. He was resurrected two hundred years later. I don't know how. I tried to kill him again, but a _sekai tabibito_ by the name of Emor sent him to a place worse then Hell: Dertah."

"So just killing him won't work, there's a special way," Piccolo muttered. Gokuh wasn't sure if he was speaking to him, Siarus, or both of them. But he had a different question to ask.

"What's a _sekai tabibito_?"

"The best title a mortal could ever get," the immortal answered. "It translates to 'world traveler'. He really travels through different dimensions on command by the high gods. His second job is to help protect dimensions. But he doesn't know about the Tenrag. No mortal does except you two."

"Acirema is here, on Earth, this dimension," Piccolo cut in. "I don't know what he's doing back or how he got back, but now is the time to get this Tenrag back."

"But," Siarus said, looking down to the floor, "whatever you do, whatever happens to Earth, don't interfere with the battle. It's between me and Acirema. No one else. Do not try to fight Acirema. I will take care of it."

"So, why did you tell me about all of this?" Gokuh asked, puzzled.

"Destruction may occur on Earth," Piccolo answered, his voice quiet and low. "And if that happens, try your best to save the people instead of stopping the cause of it all. If you stop the cause of it all surely the dimensions will fall. Siarus is just asking that you and the others stay out of the battle. It doesn't even involve Ki at all."

Gokuh nodded, understanding a little bit now. Before he could say anything in response, the door behind him opened. He glanced behind his shoulder and saw young Goten poking his head through.

"Dad, there's a strange man out here," he called with little panic and a truckload of confusion. "And he looks a lot like you."

"I know," he replied. He could feel Piccolo's sudden bewilderment. "He's awake?" His son nodded, and that just brought a smile to Gokuh's face. "Good." He turned to Siarus and Piccolo almost apologetic as he walked towards the door. "I'll be right back."

"Who is this man? Turles?" Piccolo questioned with much suspicion. Gokuh shook his head and turned in a semicircle, now with a frown and a small melancholy look.

"No. He's my father."

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

Musha no Yomigaeri: Chapter Five

* * *

Gohan wasn't sure how long "Kakarotto" was going to just stand there and scowl before he started attacking Chichi and him. But the way he was positioned made it look as if he was trying to bolt out of the house, and Gohan couldn't let him go and do that. What if he headed towards Satan City and began killing everybody? Yeah, sure, Gokuh and him would have no problem trying to stop him; unless he knew how to hide his Ki, he didn't seem to be all that strong.

Besides, he was still injured. Gohan couldn't be certain about his stamina. After all, he did collapse outside when he first found him. Now he seemed to be just fine. How long was that to last before he falls unconscious again?

Maybe it was the bandages he has on his body helped a little. Perhaps some rest did too. But it also could be his personal traits that's keeping him up this time. Determination to do **some**thing. Willpower and pride to not show his current weakness again (Gohan figured that because of how Vegeta usually acts. It was the closest he could get to seeing how a Saiya-jin behaves, even if the prince has changed since the first time they've met). Or perhaps there was something else that Gokuh had, too, that kept him from fainting from the loss of blood. After all, they ** were ** identical of each other, right?

Chichi, on the other hand, had no clue yet of whom this person was. Gohan wasn't exactly sure either; after all, his father might have been named after someone in his family. Vegeta was named after the planet of the Saiya-jins and his father, but he was the heir. But that didn't mean the third class Saiya-jins never named their children after an ancestor or another family member. Even if the Saiya-jin society was like the medieval times.

But why was this man here? Shouldn't there only be** two** Saiya-jins left in the entire universe, hybrids not included? Surely he couldn't be a survivor if he was an ancestor of his. And if he was a family member then why hasn't he come before, like Raditz did? But if he didn't survive the destruction of Vegetasei then how was he resurrected? The dragonballs couldn't have done it! 

_Too many questions_, Gohan reminded himself bitterly. _Too many to be answered. But what if he really is an alternate version of Father? How did he get here? Well, best tell Mother at least what his name is. She looks like she's going to burst._

Indeed she did. Her scowl was, in a way, worse then "Kakarotto's". What helped to make it worse was the spatula in her hand. It wouldn't do much to him, but still it looked very threatening. As a classmate back at Orange Star High School once said, "An angry woman with **any**thing in her hand is a very dangerous thing." Gohan had always just thought that **loud**, angry women were dangerous, but now he knew that there are two to worry about. But he decided to speak up at this moment before the electricity got too much for both of them to handle.

Too late.

"GOKUH!"

Both "Kakarotto" and Gohan flinched at Chichi's screeching. Now Gohan was sure he wasn't paranoid; at least the look alike of his father was reacting the same way most do when Chichi screams like that. Especially if she isn't very happy. The funny thing was, "Kakarotto" didn't even know her yet!

Or did he? Like he thought earlier, this man may be an alternate dimension version of Gokuh; he might have come from a place where these two do end up hooking up with each other in the end.

But this wasn't the time to ponder about him anymore. Hurried footsteps came and in came Gokuh looking quite uncomfortable in his own trademark way. Gohan wasn't sure how to tell him that the other Saiya-jin shared the same name with him --should he just tell him the other man's name or let the truth out? Rather, the assumed truth.

He took a deep breath, and out of the corner of his eye he saw "Kakarotto" turn around to face Gokuh. They were now staring at each other eye-to-eye, and Gohan knew he'd better tell it to his father now to save any sort of confusion. "Father--"

"Father," Gokuh cut him off, his eyes still locked onto his look alike.

Gohan blinked once in bewilderment and turned to get both men into view. "Kakarotto" examined Gokuh from the boots up to his face, and then brought up a noticeable smirk.

"Son," the man replied smugly.

The thoughts in Gohan's mind escaped all at once. Every single one of them. He could only stare at the two: one who seemed to be satisfied to see the other, and the other who seemed to be learning about the other without speaking. One looking very much alien, the other looking very much human save for the hair. One with a tail, the other without.

Father and son.

Those three words clicked the lights back on in the young hybrid's head. The man was his father's father. His father's father... his grandfather. Gohan and Goten's grandfather. This man ** was** related to them! And Gokuh was named after him. That was clear now. Was it like that in the entire Saiya-jin society? Boys being named after their fathers, girls being named after their mothers (although Gohan has never seen or even heard of a female Saiya-jin before, but they **must** have had some women)?

_But how does Father know that's ** his** father?_ Gohan wondered. _Even if they had seen each other before he was sent to Earth, surely he couldn't have remembered him!_

Luckily, and quite obviously, he wasn't the only one who was baffled by Gokuh's knowledge of this man's identity. He could hear his mother struggling to speak, perhaps trying to say, "Gokuh, how do you know that he is your father?" Goten was standing behind Gokuh, glancing back and forth between the two of them with a curious expression.

And even Gohan and his brother and mother weren't the only ones. Kakarotto tilted his head and asked in a very skeptical manner, "You never even saw me before. How the hell do you know that I'm even related to you?"

Gokuh seemed to lighten up at the question. He let out a breath of air and dropped his shoulders. "For one, you look a lot like me. But I'll tell you the rest of the reasons later," he answered. Then he glanced past his father's shoulder towards Chichi and almost pleaded, "He can stay for dinner right?"

She let out a very audible sigh. "Yes he can. But now dinner won't be ready for another couple hours if he has just as big as an appetite as you do." After that sentence a sizzling sound started to fill the kitchen; not a good sign. "The rolls are getting burnt!" She gasped and immediately turned back to her cooking. "Gohan, go back and study! You learn more about your grandfather later."

"But Mother..."

"**Now**."

There was no point in arguing, so he started to sulk back to his room. Before he could even enter the hallway, a hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turned around and saw Kakarotto smirking a little bit. "So you're my grandson, huh? Well, don't go around calling me 'Grandpa'. I've had enough trouble getting adjusted to Raditz calling me 'Father' while he was growing up."

"So I'll just call you Kakarotto?"

Gokuh raised an eyebrow at this comment, looking naively confused. But his father paid no mind to him yet. Instead he just chuckled and let his hand drop from Gohan's shoulder. "Sorry I had to lie earlier. No, my name's not Kakarotto. It's Bardock."

* * *

Weather sucked. At least this kind anyway. The bottom of his pants and his shoes were picking up mud and his backpack started getting very wet. He hoped that the report papers wouldn't get soaked; he didn't want to have to redo them. He was going to get into enough trouble with his mother as it is with him being late and nearly drenched despite the umbrella that was keeping him somewhat dry.

The project. Tomorrow, if not then next week, either Ekas or someone else from the group was going to suggest going to **his** house for the meeting. Russ had to lie to cover up his mother's secret for the past few weeks, but now they seemed more determined then ever to get to his house. Except for Trunks. He seemed to be more occupied with how to break the news to the others about him going to honors. Russ felt the same way he did, but he had other things to worry about.

His mother was an immortal. A witch, even. How was he going to tell his friends **that** when the time comes for him to tell, whenever that might be? He couldn't keep it from them for long, at least not Ekas. It was bad to keep secrets from your best friend and he knew it. He knew it as well as the next person. But he was afraid of what he might think once he tells him. Was he going to desert him, dubbing him a freak? Or the offspring of a freak? Ekas has only done that to people who dressed... well, awkwardly, to put it lightly. But he wasn't racist, so he could understand, right?

Oh, at times like this Russ believed some things were unpredictable.

Especially when walking past an old cave. An old cave that many have feared and stayed away from because of a very vicious bear... with a person inside.

It caught his eye almost at once, and as always, curiosity got the best of him. He slowly walked to the entrance and peered inside. Of course he wasn't going to enter. He didn't know whom this person was or if he wasn't some sort of psychotic killer ready to stab him twenty times on his torso. And just the thought of that made him stay back.

Sure, he went slowly, but he didn't go quietly or carefully. The man (yes, a man; Russ took notice of that immediately after peeking inside) turned his head at the sound of his footsteps and grinned wickedly. Russ kind of looked at him in question, but also observing the man at the same time.

His hair was a blonde buzz-cut, his face bearing many scars. His clothes were raggedy and torn, but otherwise Russ could see that they were the normal adventure type uniform that the actors wear in Tarzan movies. He almost looked American save for the narrow, almond hazel eyes.

The man stood from the fire he was previously hunched over and stared at Russ directly in his eyes. The young preteen started to grow uncomfortable thinking that maybe he wasn't a psychotic killer, but a child harasser. He decided to turn and run, but before he could even take a step behind him, the man called out, "Well, Russ, you're just as curious as your mother sometimes, aren't you?"

He held his mouth open. _What the hell?_ "How do you know my name and my mother? Oh, Kami, please don't tell me that you're my father," he groaned.

The strange man laughed loudly and it gave Russ a very uneasy feeling. "Oh, why would I ever want to be with your mother? She ruined my life for crying out loud! But as to how I know your name, well, let's just say in Dertah part of the torture is to watch how life is going on without you in the dimension you once resided in."

"Dertah? Mom ruined your life? Dimensions? **What**?!"

"Oh, come inside and I'll explain everything!"

"How do I know you're not going to do anything to me," Russ growled suspiciously, taking another step back in warning.

"You won't," the man said, answering his question. Then he waved his arms around excitedly, causing Russ to just stare at him in bemusement. _This guy **is** psychotic! I gotta get out of here!_

He twisted his hips around, but before he could run a rush of wind hit his face. At first it was only strong enough for him to squint his eyes, but soon it became too heavy and threw him backwards into the cave. He landed on the ground on his back. His backpack should have cushioned him, but instead it hurt his back more then it should because of all the pens, pencils, and books he had in there. _I knew I should've been a little more organized._

The man chuckled menacingly, and now spoke in a very low voice. "Ah, I now have the son of Siarus. My revenge will be more than perfect."

Then darkness took over Russ's conscious mind.

* * *


End file.
